


Maybe

by lexus_grey



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: D/s, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 14:19:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15121256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lexus_grey/pseuds/lexus_grey
Summary: Previously published on my LJ. Sara overhears Catherine making some confessions about her to Warrick.





	Maybe


    "I don't love anyone."
    
    That's what she said to me when I asked her if she loved Grissom. I was relieved and disappointed at the same time. I was relieved she didn't love Grissom, and disappointed because it sounded like she'd never give herself a chance to love me, either. We could be so good together. All the tension, the yelling, the blow-ups... we could make that friction work for us instead of against us, and we could be explosive. I could imagine her hands on my body, and I know they'd burn me everywhere they touched. I could imagine her lips, soft and satiny and wicked, trying to soothe the flames but just making them burn hotter. Thinking about her fingers in me made me weak in the knees, and often I had to brace myself against the nearest wall or fixture to keep from stumbling. Did she know how I felt? Maybe. Probably not. She always has been oblivious to how beautiful and intense she is. Even though I never tried to hide the fact that I was attracted to her, I doubt she ever noticed. I doubt she ever looked twice at me, and never in *that* way. "Anyone?" I asked.
    
    "Anyone," she said. "Why do you want to know? Having amorous feelings toward me again?"
    
    The tone of her voice, deeply laced with sarcasm, let me know she was joking, and I did what I always do in a pinch - I volleyed the ball back into her court. "You wish, Sidle. I'm just curious. It's a weird thing to say, that you don't love anyone." Put her on the defensive. Great idea.
    
    Her eyes narrowed, and she stared at me with that way about her that she always has, that works on everyone but me. "I have work to do."
    
    "Of course you do," I said patronizingly, unable to stop the biting words before they made it out of my mouth. "All you do is work."
    
    She looked like she was deciding whether to say something back or just walk away, and I wished I could take back the shot at her personal life. She didn't deserve that.
    
    "Catherine," she started, and I could see her jaw working in an effort not to insult me back, but apparently it failed, because she did. "For someone who spends so much time passing judgment, you sure seem to overlook your own faults. When was the last time you woke up alone?"
    
    My jaw dropped. I hadn't expected her to go that far below the belt, and I know I lost ten battle points when I couldn't come up with an acidic response to keep her in the game. She walked away from me, her strides long and purposeful, her fists clenched at her sides. Maybe some teeny tiny part of me was proud that I could get a reaction out of her, but for the most part I just felt like an asshole. Why was I always insulting her, when all I wanted to do was have her? Maybe it was because I knew I couldn't have her. I was just behaving like a child, throwing tantrums when I didn't get my way. "Sara, wait," I called, jogging to catch up with her. "What are you doing after work?" Oh, my God. I did not just ask that. For so many reasons, I know I did not just ask that.
    
    Sara spun on me, her eyes showing her anger, her fists unclenching and then clenching again. "Very funny! Is that the best you can do?" she asked, her voice raised, one of very few times I'd ever heard her raise it.
    
    "No, that's not what I--" I tried to explain but she interrupted me.
    
    "Leave me alone, Catherine. Find someone else to pick apart, because I'm done."
    
    I watched her go and felt the frustrating sting of tears in my eyes. It was hard for me to feel so helpless. But what could I do?
    
    --
    
    "What's wrong, Cath?"
    
    I picked my head up from where it was resting on my locker and turned to look at Warrick, who had just entered the locker room. "Oh, nothing," I said, but I knew he wouldn't believe me. Hell, I wouldn't have believed me either.
    
    "Yeah, right," he said, walking over to me and putting an arm around my shoulder. "C'mon. What's up? Is it Sara again?"
    
    Warrick knew how I felt about Sara. I hadn't meant to tell him, but he was talking about some girl he'd met, and how he wanted to take her out and spoil her, and I had just slipped that I'd love to do the same with Sara. After laughing at me for a good five minutes, he had calmed down and actually been really supportive. So, even though I was horrified at myself at first, I was eventually glad I'd told him. "Yeah," I said, leaning my head on his shoulder. "Why can't I say anything nice to her? Why can't I just say 'Goddamn, you look hot in those jeans', instead of making some comment that's wildly untrue about how much I *don't* think she's hot? Or, you know, instead of throwing out a nasty remark about how much overtime she works, why can't I just ask her out for a beer? What the hell is wrong with me, Warrick? I never have trouble going after what I want. You know that!"
    
    Warrick chuckled and gave me a squeeze. "You're acting like a first grade boy with a crush," he informed me.
    
    "I have not pulled her hair," I pouted, turning my face to hide it against his neck. "Actually, I tried to ask her out earlier, but she interrupted me and then stormed off."
    
    "And you had nothing to do with it?"
    
    "I had everything to do with it," I sighed. "I asked what she was doing after work... I meant it as a segue into asking her to do something, but she thought I was insulting her again. And my stupid ass didn't bother to run after her spouting out an explanation whether she wanted to hear it or not."
    
    "You know... if you go for it and she's not interested, it can't be any worse than it is now, can it?" Warrick asked wisely.
    
    I stood up straight and moved away from him. "You're no help. My ego's a lot more fragile than it used to be, I tell ya. I can't just go for it anymore."
    
    "Ah, bullshit," Warrick said, pointing a finger at me. "I saw you go for it last week, remember?"
    
    "That was some guy in a bar!"
    
    "Oh, so Sara's different, then. More than a potential piece of ass?"
    
    He ducked before I even started to take a swing, so I didn't bother. "Warrick..." I started to say, but trailed off in resignation and just leaned my forehead against my locker once more. "She gets under my skin. I can't even tell you how many times I sat in my office wishing she would come in and just--" I stopped, not wanting to go too far into detail, "--you know. Or, or that when we're fighting, she'll just shove me against the wall and kiss me." I'm pretty sure I was whining now. "Hell, I'd settle for a damn spanking if it meant she had her hands on me!"
    
    Apparently that was the icing on the cake for Warrick, because he burst out laughing. "I'm sorry Cath," he said, and I could see him turn away from me out of the corner of my eye. "I'm sorry. You're just... oh man..."
    
    I reached out and shoved him, hard, then got into my locker. "I'm going home. Thanks for the pep talk, Grissom," I said dryly, slamming my locker door and heading out. I know he could tell I wasn't really mad at him.
    
    --
    
    I was almost asleep at my desk the next night. I hadn't slept at all, literally, not a wink. I don't even know why. It's not like tension with Sara was a new thing, so it must have been something else. Body clock off, maybe. But whatever it was, I was paying for it now. Until Sara came into my office and shut the door behind her - then I was wide awake. "What do you want?" I snapped, still pissed at myself for last night's failings, and apparently still incapable of not taking it out on her.
    
    In response, she reached behind her and locked the door. My eyes widened and went from the now locked door, to her face, a hardened expression on mine.
    
    "Unlock th--"
    
    "I heard what you said to Warrick in the locker room last night."
    
    I froze, practically able to feel the color draining out of my face. No. That was impossible. How had she heard? My mind searched frantically and I realized that I hadn't checked around to make sure we were alone before spilling my guts. She could have easily been in the room somewhere. Oh, fuck. What was I supposed to say now? Something snappy, something rude, on purpose and with careful calculation this time. "You didn't think it would be appropriate to announce your presence once you realized I was talking about something private?!" I nearly yelled at her. "I guess you've really mastered the art of staying in the shadows, haven't you? I can't fucking believe this. It was none of your business, you had no right to listen! What were you even doing in the locker room at the end of shift? It's not like you ever leave here!" Yes, I was being defensive. Panicked, even. Out of my fucking mind, probably. And the next thing I knew, she had hauled me to my feet and gave me an unbelievably solid smack on the ass, making me shriek and jump. Who the hell did she think she w-- 'hell, I'd settle for a damn spanking if it meant she had her hands on me!'
    
    Oh. OH. Wow. She really had heard what I said last night. And... that smack stung. Seriously, I wanted to reach back and rub my ass.
    
    "Are you finished?" she asked sharply, her hand still curled around my arm to hold me in place.
    
    I was right. My skin did burn where she touched me. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as I focused my attention on her fingers gripping my bicep. "I think so," I managed to choke out on a shaky breath. "Not sure."
    
    She guided me back down into my chair, and I stayed there, terrified and extremely curious as to where she was going with all this. Maybe Warrick was right. It couldn't possibly be any worse between us than it already was. Okay, yes it could. She could leave the lab, or try to make Grissom reassign me. That would be worse to me than arguing all the time.
    
    "Can we try that again?" she asked, and without waiting for an answer, she walked back around to the other side of my desk and repeated the first thing she'd said when she walked in. "I heard what you said to Warrick in the locker room last night."
    
    I swallowed hard and nodded, my wide eyes never leaving her. "You've made that painfully obvious," I whispered. What did she want me to say? She'd heard it all. What was left to confess? This time I had not put the ball in her court by choice - but there it was.
    
    She stared at me for an interminably long time, and when I thought she was never going to say anything, she spoke. "Say something nice to me."
    
    I blinked, wiping my palms on the front of my slacks as I tried to think of something nice to say. There was no shortage of things, but none of them would come to me in the heat of the moment, when I was in the spotlight so to speak. You know, that was just like Sara. Stay calm and cool and collected while I freaked out. Typical. I could feel the anger rising up again and fought against it. Now was my chance to finally say something nice to her, like I always wanted to and never could. "You're good at your job," I said, which was true but wholly inadequate. So I added onto it before she could respond. "And..." the perfect thing came to me and I smirked, pleased with myself. "And Goddamn, you look hot in those jeans."
    
    She grinned at me, but it was hard to tell if it was an amused grin, a patronizing grin, a happy grin, or a wicked grin. What an investigator I am. I think... wicked grin. Definitely, if the way she's leaned over my desk is any indication.
    
    "Get out of your chair, and back yourself up against the wall," she said, her words slow and smooth, rolling off her tongue as if she were reading poetry.
    
    "What?" I immediately asked, both eyebrows shooting skyward as I instinctively pushed my chair back a few inches.
    
    "I think it was a pretty clear instruction, Catherine," Sara nearly purred, her eyes darkening a shade as she stood up and started taking measured steps around the desk.
    
    Oh, my God. She was going predator and I was too scattered to notice. But the look in her eyes left no room for mistakes - I was her prey. And oh, did I like that. In fact, my breath caught in my throat and started coming in rapid, shallow gasps as I stood up and backed away from her until I was against the wall. I wasn't sure if my motivation was escape or compliance, but either way, I'd done as she instructed, and my pulse was pounding so loud in my ears I was afraid she'd hear it.
    
    She stopped in front of me, in my personal space but not touching me, and just stood staring until I couldn't take anymore. I opened my mouth to speak but she put a finger to it, quieting me quite effectively.
    
    "I want you to put your hands above your head," she said softly, trailing her fingertip across my bottom lip and down my chin before breaking contact.
    
    My knees almost gave out, and I wasn't sure if I'd be happy about it later but I obediently raised my hands above my head without complaint. Without so much as a second thought, actually. It's slightly possible that I liked her taking the lead, though that will never be admitted aloud. In fact, it's slightly possible that she already had me drenched and hadn't even been anywhere near my pants yet. I was throbbing, as if I held a heartbeat between my legs.
    
    "Now..." she leaned her head forward to whisper in my ear, "spread your legs a little..."
    
    Jesus, she was going to kill me before she even touched me. With a soft gasp, I moved my legs about shoulder-width apart, afraid to look into her eyes because I knew what she'd see in mine. So I closed them.
    
    Sara brought her hands to my shoulders, smoothing her palms upward along my outstretched arms until she closed her fingers around each of my wrists, pressing lightly into the wall. And then she waited. I wasn't sure what she was waiting for, but apparently it was something, because she just stood there, the only contact between us being her hands on my wrists.
    
    Finally I opened my eyes, hoping to get a clue as to what she was waiting for, and as soon as I did, she stepped forward, pinning me fully to the wall with her body. Oh, fuck. I was a goner. My muscles went slack and the only thing holding me up was the knee she quickly slipped between my legs to catch me.
    
    The pressure on my overheated sex made things worse, and I pulled my wrists out of her grasp, grabbing her shoulders and digging in, needing something to anchor me.
    
    She hissed as my nails dug into her skin, but to her credit, she stayed cool and snaked her hands down my sides, gripping my hips and lifting me up. I didn't have to be asked to know what she wanted, and I wrapped my legs around her waist, settling my hips on hers. I would have been worried I was too heavy for her, but she picked me up so easily and without even a grunt of effort. She was driving me crazy. Undoing me with her slow, deliberate moves and her dominance. I wanted to complain but I ended up uttering a breathless apology. "I'm sorry for all the nasty things I've said to you..."
    
    "Shh, Catherine," Sara said with a quirky grin. "Don't apologize. Just ask me out."
    
    Even in the face of that, I couldn't do it. I just stared at her, the ability to speak lost for the moment.
    
    She laughed and squeezed my waist. "Ask me over for dinner. You can cook for me."
    
    I don't know what the hell was wrong with me, but I still just stared at her, as if I was frozen or something. Even a mental slap didn't make me open my mouth. If I scared her off I'd kill me.
    
    She laughed again and carefully set me on my feet, making sure they'd hold me before she let go. "Tomorrow night, before shift. Say, five. I like pasta, I don't eat meat. Have dinner ready by the time I get there."
    
    At least I was able to force myself to nod. Words were still a problem but my head worked well enough to get the message across that I understood and definitely agreed.
    
    She was at the door, twisting open the lock, when she turned back to me with a rakish grin. "Oh, and Catherine?"
    
    "Mm?" I squeaked, not even trying to open my mouth.
    
    "I want you in an apron."
    
    And then she left.
    
    Did I even own an apron?
    
    --
    
    Well, I owned an apron. It was somewhere in the mess of junk that was the contents of my attic. I remembered getting it as a gift from my mother when I first moved in here, as a not-so-subtle suggestion that I stop letting Lindsey eat fast food.
    
    When I finally found it, I kicked the box it had been in, frustrated that I'd just wasted twenty minutes searching for the damn thing instead of making myself look as good as possible before Sara got here. I climbed down from the attic and shut the trap door with a bang, heading straight for the shower to scrub spiderwebs out of my hair. Ugh.
    
    I tried to keep busy every second, because I didn't want to start thinking about the fact that Sara was coming over for dinner, because if I started thinking about that, I'd freak out. At least Lindsey was staying the night at a friend's house, so she wouldn't have to witness her mother having a breakdown about a date with a coworker.
    
    After the shower I blow dried my hair and put a little curl into the ends, brushed my teeth, applied a casual amount of makeup, and then checked the clock. Four fifteen. That left me forty-five minutes to cook some pasta and vegetables, which I was sure I could manage.
    
    Rooting around the kitchen, I came up with a bag of penne pasta, some frozen broccoli, a jar of alfredo sauce, and a loaf of french bread. Great! I could work with that. I was about to start cooking when I remembered the apron, which I had dusted off and left on the floor outside the bathroom. I quickly retrieved it and put it on, making sure there were no little beasties inhabiting any of the pockets, and then got to work.
    
    --
    
    Dinner was ready by five, and I was just washing my hands in the kitchen sink when I heard the knock on the door I'd been expecting. Taking a deep breath, I smoothed my hands over my apron and moved to the foyer, losing that deep breath in a rush when I opened the door to see Sara with flowers. "Hi," I said lamely, only just managing to remember to move out of the way and let her in.
    
    She stepped in and closed the door behind her, then turned to me and held the flowers out. I don't know why I was so surprised; I guess I just didn't picture her as the romantic type. I reached out and took the flowers in both hands, inhaling deeply of the sweet, mixed scent of the boquet, and finally found my normal voice.
    
    "Thank you, they're beautiful," I said quietly.
    
    "You're welcome," she said, and turned her face slightly, tapping one finger against her cheek.
    
    I blinked, and took that to mean she wanted me to kiss her cheek, so I leaned up with a blush, pressing my lips with a featherlight touch to her warm, soft skin. I don't know how she managed to do this to me, to turn me into a blushing teenager with a crush, but she seemed to do it effortlessly, which made me even more intrigued.
    
    "Do you have a vase?"
    
    "Yes, yeah, of course," I stammered, shaking my head and running off to the kitchen, holding the flowers in one hand and grabbing a suitable vase with the other. I filled the crystal with water and carefully put the flowers in, making sure it was steady, and then carried it to the dining room and set it in the middle of the table. I couldn't resist leaning in for another smell, and when I straightened back up, Sara was behind me, her arms wrapping around me, her wrists crossed over my belly. My sharp inhale didn't go unnoticed by the sleek, sophisticated predator behind me.
    
    "Nervous?" she murmured into my ear, her lips brushing across the edge of my sensitive lobe.
    
    "Fuck!" I gasped, my control slipping once again as I buckled beneath her, and once again her strong embrace held me up.
    
    Her breath tickled my ear as she continued to whisper to me. "Is dinner ready?"
    
    I think I whimpered at that point, but I can't be sure. "Yes," I answered quickly. There was no way I was going to make it through this date if she kept torturing me like this.
    
    "What did you make me?"
    
    I know I whimpered then, because she pulled my earlobe into her mouth and suckled it softly. She wanted me to speak while she was doing that?!
    
    She must have sensed my dilemma because she released my ear and repeated her question. "What did you make me?"
    
    "Penne with alfredo sauce and broccoli," I heaved, grateful for the reprieve but already missing the feel of her lips on my skin. "And bread with butter..."
    
    "Mmm, sounds wonderful," she purred, making no move to back off. "Why isn't the table set, Catherine?"
    
    I tensed in her arms. Was I really expected to remember something like setting the table when I was already stressing about having dinner ready and looking good? And furthermore, why did I absolutely love that she expected me to? "I was-- just going to do that now," I said, unable to keep the hitch out of my voice. I know she could see right through me, see how excited she was making me.
    
    "That would be a good idea," she agreed, and there was a slight promise in her voice that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I was about to nod and get to it when she spoke again. "Set one place... you'll be seated in my lap, eating from my fork," she whispered.
    
    My eyes wide, I nodded and moved from her hold, so wet that it was uncomfortable to walk to the kitchen. With shaking hands I grabbed a dinner plate, a salad plate for the bread, a fork and a knife, and clutched them to my body as I returned to the dining room and set them in front of where Sara was now sitting. I went back for a drinking glass and a napkin, setting those in front of her as well, and then went back once more for the dish of pasta and the half loaf of bread. I loaded her plate with a good amount of the pasta and a slice of the bread, and then stood there awkwardly, not sure what to do next. No one had ever treated me like this, and while it was exhilarating, it was also unfamiliar, so, I waited.
    
    Sara looked up at me and smirked, sliding an arm around my waist and dragging me into her lap. At least this time I was sitting down and didn't run the risk of falling. Had she been like this when she was dating Grissom? I was extremely curious now, but there was no way in hell that question was leaving my lips.
    
    She started eating and I was lost in the play of her jaw muscles as she chewed and swallowed, imagining her tongue pushing into my mouth and making her jaw work like that... I was brought from my fantasy by a piece of broccoli touching my lips, and I started, blinking and then blushing, opening my mouth to accept the bite. Damnit, she was so sexy. The way her thighs felt under my ass made me want to squirm, but I held still, playing by the unspoken rules she'd set. Me and the throbbing between my legs liked her rules. I had never felt so out of my element in my life, but I had never been so excited either.
    
    I wondered how she was feeling. Whether she was nervous on the inside, or if that confidence reached way down. Was she excited? Was she turned on? Did she like the damn pasta? Then I wondered if she could read my damn mind, because she fisted a handful of my hair and pulled my head back so she could look at me. "This is delicious," she said in that low tone people use when they want to drive you crazy with need, and held another piece of broccoli to my lips with her fingers.
    
    I gasped at the pull, my scalp stinging slightly, fueling the fire in my already soaked underwear, and opened up again, accepting the morsel and resisting the urge to suck her fingers into my mouth. The broccoli was good, but I knew her skin would taste better. My body hated that she was teasing me, but my intellect loved it. I had never met someone who could match my wits like Sara did, and it was thrilling. She was already proving that she could give me a run for my money and come out ahead. I don't like to lose, but this didn't feel like losing. "Thank you," I said after I swallowed. "I'm glad you like it."
    
    She released my hair and scratched her fingernails lightly over the back of my neck. I shivered violently and tossed my head back, trying to quell the feeling. She chuckled and picked up a piece of pasta, feeding it to me as she had been doing with the broccoli, and I ate it, wondering just how long a girl could be expected to simmer before she was allowed to explode.
    
    She continued for the rest of the meal like that, until the plate was clean, and she scooted the chair back from the table, keeping me in her lap. A lazy finger trailed up and down my right arm, giving me goosebumps and making me want so much more.
    
    "You're probably wondering some things right now," she said, a question that wasn't a question.
    
    "About a million, but they can wait," I said, leaning back against her chest.
    
    "Are you sure?"
    
    "Mhmm..."
    
    "Well in that case, go ahead and wash the dishes. I have a phone call to make, I'll be back in five minutes, tops... which means you have five minutes, tops, to wash, dry, and put away."
    
    I wouldn't have moved, but she held tightly to my waist and stood up, setting me on my feet, and I watched as she walked out the front door. Five minutes, huh? I could do better than that. I put the leftovers in the frige and with that done, there weren't many dishes to wash. Just the plate, fork, and knife, because Sara hadn't had anything to drink with dinner. I was finished in three minutes, and I could see her on the front porch through the window beside the door, and I was too curious not to walk over and see if I could hear anything. She'd probably be mad if she caught me, but she'd eavesdropped on one of my conversations, so I had the right to do the same.
    
    I could hear a few things, but it was hard to know what they meant out of context. One thing wasn't too hard to understand, though.
    
    "Yeah, it's going well. Thanks for the advice," Sara said, and I could hear the smile in her voice even though I was hiding behind the door now and couldn't see her.
    
    Thanks for the advice? Who the hell had she asked for advice about me? And what advice had she asked for?
    
    I was stood there in shock, wondering a million more things now, and so unfortunately didn't realize when she ended her call and opened the door... right into my back. Oh, shit.
    
    "Catherine?" she asked, slipping in and closing the door, raising an eyebrow at me. "Were you listening?"
    
    Time to get defensive so she wouldn't have time to focus on the fact that I was listening. "Who did you ask advice from?"
    
    "Catherine..."
    
    I should have recognized the warning in her voice. Hell, maybe I did recognize it and pushed on anyway. No one could say I'm not stubborn. "What advice did you ask for about me?" I tried to sound mad, but I was just curious. And the next thing I knew she had me bent over one arm of the couch, and she spanked me until I was breathing so hard I couldn't see straight.
    
    I was completely stunned, to the point I didn't even kick or whine until it was over and I had time to register the pulsing sting in my backside. I tried to draw in a deep breath but they were coming too rapid and shallow, my fists curled into the couch cushion beneath my head of their own accord. Only then did I also notice the tears in my eyes and the raw, aching need she had built between my thighs. No one had ever affected me like she was. I didn't know what to say.
    
    Sara left me bent over the couch and came around to sit on the cushion beside my head, resting one hand between my shoulder blades, and then just sat there, letting me calm down without words.
    
    When I felt my breathing returning to normal was when she spoke.
    
    "Do you have any more questions about my phone call?"
    
    Oh, God. She couldn't have picked something better to say to me at that moment even if she had read my mind. "No," I said quickly, my voice hoarse with the remnants of my labored breaths. I didn't know a whole lot of things right now, but that was one of them. I did not have any more questions about that phone call.
    
    She started gently rubbing my back, and I felt myself relaxing a little. "Do you want to sit with me?"
    
    "Yeah," I breathed, not really having been aware of how much I wanted that until she asked. I got up and thought about sitting next to her on the couch, but she looked so amazing and irresistible that I carefully lowered myself onto her lap instead, mindful of my sore backside, which, let me tell you, was sore.
    
    "Are you okay?" Her arms went around me, hands resting on the tops of my thighs.
    
    I couldn't help the snort of laughter that escaped at that. "Now you ask me?"
    
    She laughed too and started idly stroking her thumbs back and forth, driving me to distraction. "Are you?" she pressed.
    
    "Yeah," I answered, leaning my head back on her shoulder and staring at the ceiling. I don't know what was different about right now that prevented me from saying it back in my office, but I admitted on a shaky breath, "I want you, Sara."
    
    "I know," she whispered, turning her head to nibble on my ear, her breath hot against my skin. She gave my thighs a squeeze and ran her palms up over my hips to land on my waist. I thought she was going to lift me up again, but after a moment her hands continued higher, her fingers tracing the pattern of my ribs through my blouse.
    
    Even through my arousal I was starting to get frustrated with her, and I let out a long sigh. "Do you want me at all, or are you just teasing me?"
    
    She didn't answer me vocally, but she shifted beneath me and I heard a zipper, then her fingers wrapped around one of my wrists and guided my hand into her pants. I gasped at the warm, wet feel of her underwear against my fingertips, a lightning bolt shooting straight through me. She pulled my hand away and zipped her pants, then whispered into my ear, "don't ask me that again."
    
    I still wondered why she couldn't have just answered the question like a normal person, but at least my fear that she wasn't really attracted to me was quelled. And then it hit me like a ton of bricks that I'd just had my hand in her pants, and that she was wet, and warm, for me. There was no preparing for the wave of pure visceral pleasure that tore through me as that thought settled over my brain like a blanket of smoke. I'm sure she could feel my heat through both of our pants.
    
    Just when I thought she was never going to fucking touch me, two of her fingers closed around my nipple, pinching it lightly through the layers of flimsy fabric covering my chest. "Sara," I groaned, leaning my head back on her shoulder again, unable to stop my hips from rocking forward just a little. It felt so good. Something else that felt good was the tremor that went through her hands when I groaned her name. She didn't acknowledge it, of course, but I felt it. She just pinched my nipple slightly harder and made me groan again, my thighs tightening around the outside of hers. "Sara, please..."
    
    She splayed the fingers of her free hand across my belly and pulled me tighter against her, pressing her crotch into my ass, and I pressed back into her as much as I could. Sitting on her lap, fully clothed, was not my ideal position for this, but she was making it work. God, she was making it work... her left hand under my blouse now, rubbing back and forth across my quivering stomach while her right hand reached across to switch nipples. 
    
    I arched into her hands, my skin on fire everywhere she touched me. No lover had ever wound me up so tight in such a short amount of time... if ever. She knew how to push my buttons, and how not to push my buttons so that I just fucking needed her to. I've never been much for begging, but suddenly I could see the appeal. I was about to open my mouth when she spoke and blew me away.
    
    "Do you have any idea how fucking hot you are?" she hissed into my ear, abandoning my nipple and my stomach and using both hands to start unbuttoning my blouse from the bottom. "Do you, Catherine? Do you know how many times I've gone to bed thinking about you and had to get myself off before I could sleep?" She was halfway done now, and I don't think I was breathing. My head was spinning, I know that much.
    
    "I--" I tried to answer, but another button slipping free distracted me, then another... the last one, and she parted my blouse, sliding it down my arms and leaving it around my elbows, restricting my movement. Did I want to complain about that?
    
    "I've worn out so many batteries because of you, Catherine," she husked, her lips on my ear now, making me moan and whimper.
    
    The image of her with a vibrator, thinking of me, nearly made me explode right there, but I realized I didn't have to be satisfied with just the image of her, because I had her right here. I knew I wanted to say something to that, but I didn't know what. I should probably confess to my own sins. "My battery drawer is empty too, Sara," I breathed, my hips jerking when she bit down on my ear. "Though I don't need batteries to get the job done..." And before she could say anything to that, I quickly went on, needing her so badly I was about to scream. "Please touch me. I need you to touch me now. You're making me crazy."
    
    "You've been making me crazy for eight years," she hissed, biting my earlobe again, making me melt. "The way you dress, the way you walk, the way you flaunt your sexuality around the lab without even meaning to... talking about when you used to dance..." Her voice had gone from a hiss to a low purr now, and she hooked one finger beneath each of the straps of my bra, slowly pulling them over my shoulders and letting them fall to rest with the fabric of my blouse around my elbows. "My first year on the job, and I heard you tell Greg you wore nothing but skin when you danced." Her palms flattened over my collarbone and slid downwards, into the cups of my bra, massaging my bare breasts in firm circles. "Is that true? You got completely naked in front of strangers?"
    
    "No," I breathed, mewling happily at her touch. "I wore shoes."
    
    She chuckled throatily and attached her lips to the side of my neck, suckling me so gently I could barely feel it.
    
    I tilted my head further to the side to give her as much access as she wanted, and she responded by pulling away, pushing me forward, and unhooking my bra. Finally she removed my blouse the rest of the way, setting it beside her on the couch, my bra joining it seconds later, and I was tired of waiting. I flipped over so I was kneeling astride her lap, my knees digging into the cushions as I slid my hands into her hair and squeezed.
    
    She got a glazed look in her eyes, glazed and hungry, and let me take the lead for a few seconds, resting her hands idly on my hips. Her gaze strayed from my face to my chest, and I grinned at her, guiding a breast into her mouth.
    
    The first touch of her lips on my painfully erect nipple made me cry out and slump forward, laying my cheek on the top of her head. I was pulsing, throbbing, aching for her. And I had never been so wet. When she sweetly licked me, I groaned, my hands instinctively tightening in her hair and holding her head against me. When she started rapidly flicking her tongue back and forth, a jolt of electricity shot straight between my legs and I was afraid I'd come before I wanted to. I wanted to hold out as long as she could, to match her passion, to stretch it out, at least until she was inside me for fuck's sake.
    
    Her grip on my hips tightened and she switched breasts, repeating the maddening flicks of her tongue on the other side, and I was so close... I think she knew it, I think she wanted me to, because she bit me lightly and slid a hand between my legs, squeezing me hard, and I lost it.
    
    I was pissed, but the pleasure radiated through me, making me shudder violently above her and cry out, grinding lewdly against her hand, my muscles tightening, and holding for several seconds as the waves rolled by, before going completely slack. I didn't bother trying to prop myself up on shaky arms, I just collapsed against her, breathing heavily into her neck.
    
    When my chest stopped burning and my breaths were coming normally again, I noticed her trembling beneath me. "Sara?" I asked, picking my head up to look at her.
    
    "I lied."
    
    My eyes widened. "What? About what?" Okay, I wasn't going to panic until I heard what she had to say. What the hell could she possibly have lied about?
    
    "When I said I don't love anyone. I lied."
    
    If she was about to tell me she loved me, I might die. If she was about to tell me she loved someone else, I might kill her.
    
    "I never wanted to love anyone... This is your fault... You just kept-- you just kept making me want to know you more and more, and when I did, when I finally let myself get to know you, that was it, Catherine. You ruined all of my bullshit by refusing to take it, dishing it back out at me like no one's ever done, and respect turned into something else when I saw you with Lindsey."
    
    "Spit it out, Sidle," I said with a cheeky grin. "Do you love me?"
    
    She rolled her eyes and wiggled her hips under mine. "Maybe."
    
    "Well maybe the feeling's returned," I said saucily, reaching for the hem of her sweater. "My turn to give you hell."
    
    "Oh no... I'm not finished giving it to you," she replied playfully, grabbing my wrists and pinning them behind my back.
    
    And so began the best night of my life, two years ago, and the daylight still hasn't dawned.
    


End file.
